After Sake bombs he tried to puke into an alluminum beer bottle and shot vomit streaks in a perfect V out the sides of his mouth and hit BOTH girls he had bought drinks for that night. He was like an Icon of Cock-blocking yourself.
All I had with a note saying that my shoes are in the ceiling and good luck.
He gave me an elaborately handwritten invite (on a bar coaster) back to his place and whispered in my ear 'i have ping pong'. And he said byob. fuck THAT.
You're really doing everyone a disservice by wearing pants all the time.
also, the amount of semen in my carpet right now is unforgivable...
adding to the list of how to lure in freshman boys: take dogs for a walk, yell at them from across the street, sit on the curb at 3 in the morning sobbing
I literally used, "MY VAGINA IS TOO FANTASTIC FOR HIM TO STAY GAY" as a valid argument for attempting to fuck my gay friend.
Puke, feathers, beads, and solo cups all on my way to class. I'm surprised anyone's alive after this weekend.
I am on my usual post-jerkoff high of eternal happiness. Like I could punch a fucking tiger.
I just smoked a bowl alone and took my Zyrtec here's to a full night.
I just remembered I made you punch yourself in the face last night and I would like to formally apologize for that even though it was hilarious.
After you puked in the bathtub you claimed you were never eating quesadillas again and you never even ate a quesadilla
I did coke with the Royal Navy last night. God save the queen.
We left Waffle House and he took off running five miles down the road saying we were "training for the Olympics." And I mean, I couldn't leave him out there like that...
no no no no you can't just say your dirtiest secret is "i sat on goldfish by accident once" and just leave i have QUESTIONS
AT LEAST TELL ME IF THE GOLDFISH WAS STILL IN A BOWL??????????????
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